


Of Silver and Mithril

by UlisaBarbic



Series: Durin's Line Endures [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Post-Battle of Five Armies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Comforting Kili, Durin Family, Durin Family Feels, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Dwarf History & Lore, Erebor, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Gen, Good King Thorin, Good Uncle Thorin, Heartbreak, Kili is a sweetheart, Kili just wants to be loved, Past Relationship(s), Paternal!Thorin, Post Battle of the Five Armies, Protective Thorin, Tauriel is still an ally, Thorin actually does know what he's doing, Thorin has heartstrings that his sister-sons strum all day, Thorin is a Softie, Thorin's (Actual) A+ Parenting, Thorin's A+ Parenting, Uncle Thorin, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, heartbreak sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 04:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlisaBarbic/pseuds/UlisaBarbic
Summary: In the winter months after the retaking of Erebor, Tauriel meets up with Kili to discuss their relationship and it isn't what he had hoped. Good thing that Uncle Thorin is a lot better at this parenting thing than people give him credit for.Takes place after my story "Calling In A King's Favor" but you don't necessary have to read it in order to follow this one.The Hobbit characters are owned by JRR Tolkien and used only for the enjoyment of fans. Tauriel was created by Peter Jackson for the movie verse.





	Of Silver and Mithril

Red hair blowing in the wind, Tauriel waited amid the remains of Laketown. It wasn’t the most pleasant place to meet but it was certainly quiet and private. Not a lot of folk, be that dwarf, man, elf or otherwise ventured here. They had obtained and salvaged from the city what they could with the conclusion of the battle and so the once bustling port had been left to slowly fade away with time. Time…Her heart felt heavy in her chest the longer she waited. Being an elf, time moved relatively without consequence and yet these minutes felt to be millennia.

 

“Tauriel!”

 

Finally. 

 

Emerging from the newly fallen snow was the brown haired prince of Erebor. Trailing at his heels was a white pup that she had heard much about as of late, Goldfire he had been dubbed. The loyalty the creature had already displayed was quite endearing. When Kili came to a stop before her, the wolf child laid by his feet but his ears remained forever tracking. It was appropriate, she felt. A wolf pup of innocence to match the Dwarven Prince who seemed to ooze innocence in all he did. His face, even now, was full of enthusiasm and starlight.

 

“Sorry, Tauriel.” He laughed, nervously and scratched through his scruff of a beard, “I may just be second heir but that doesn’t mean my uncle is slack with me. It’s just as important for me to know how to run a Kingdom as Fili, he says.” Honestly, it wasn’t so bad. Kili rather enjoyed seeing his uncle’s methods and when his suggestions were considered and even appreciated, he felt light as air. Already, with the kingdom rebuilding, his uncle would routinely ask him or his brother for input. While it was not always accepted, it was always considered. Oh, the pride that could burst in his heart.

 

It was nothing compared to being with Tauriel though. Her presence, her smile, the very essence of her just made him giddy.

 

Allowing a light smile to cross her lips, the elf woman remarked “Your Uncle is far wiser than he’s given credit for.” While her interactions with the Dwarf King had been limited, once the Gold Sickness had passed, he seemed a creature of high honor, at least by her standards. She doubted that he’d ever be trustful of elves but the fact he was willing to pursue an alliance despite personal feelings said a lot. With what she knew of the past between the elves of Mirkwood and Erebor, she could hardly blame either side for their reluctance. She doubted if another besides Thorin’s line had taken the throne if such alliances would have even been considered. Yes, for as much as the grouchy dwarf king could be infuriating, she had to give credit where credit was due.

 

Chuckling a bit and pushing the hair from his eyes, Kili agreed. “Yeah, he is. I’ve learned a lot but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you!” The truth of that sentiment burned through his eyes like a flame.

 

Her heart sank again. “Kili, that’s why I wanted to meet with you.” She gave him a smile. “I understand your busy schedule now. Reclaiming a homeland has more work within it than most imagine.” While she had never reclaimed a kingdom, she knew that it took a great deal of work to run one. She was often busy simply being Captain of the Guard or she had been. “I’m almost glad to be relieved of my position as leader of the guard. For all its benefits, the amount of work involved never faltered.” Allowing another smile at the dwarf, she added, “I’m sure you and your brother have been finding that the title of ‘prince’ is not free.”

 

Laughing a little, Kili remarked “I think it’s been worth it so far though! I’ve never seen my uncle so happy and come spring, more of our people will be coming from the Blue Mountains! You’ll get to see my mother.”

 

Eyes warm, the elven maiden remarked “I’m sure she is full of strength just as the rest of her bloodline is.”

 

“She is. Her and Uncle together can be hilarious. Though they work well together.” He smiled and his whole face lit up. “She’ll like you.”

 

Tauriel took a breath and let it fill her lungs. “Kili, I’ve been meaning to return this to you.” She reached out, took his hand gently lay his stone talisman within it. He had granted it to her before the battle and while she had clung to it a while and made sure that no harm came to it, she knew it was time.

 

A low laugh came from his throat, one that clouded nervousness. “Tauriel, it was a courting gift. Amrâlimê means “my love” that’s why I gave it to you.” He held his hand back out to her. “It’s yours, Amrâlimê.”

 

She nodded “I surmised that it meant something along those lines. Your eyes gave all that away. Which is why I must give it back.” She gently folded his palm around it. “I cannot accept it.” She added “I…never should have accepted it.” Oh, the countless nights she had walked the wood, fingering the stone and wondering why she had not given it back. She should have given it back. Was it the moment? Was it the stress of the coming war? Was it a simple, childish desire of her own to fall in love? Perhaps it had been all three but she had no right to play his heart so, nor had that been the intention, but that had ultimately been what she had done.

 

She had to fix this.

 

Eyes wide, the Dwarven prince stared “Wh...what? I...I don’t understand...I...” Lost. That was all he looked like…utterly and totally lost. As if he were a forgotten child who was pleading amid the dark night for mother and father to return to him.

 

It hurt her heart.

 

“Kili.” Her tone was soft and gentle. “I truly do treasure you. I have lived my whole life among King Thranduil’s halls. I have only known the tales of stars and trees. Yet, here you came with stories of far away places, gems and stone. You carried such passion in your eyes and it was evident in all you did. I do treasure that.” She meant every word of that. Their small conversations in Thranduil’s dungeons had meant the world to her. She had spoken of starlight and moons and Kili had spoken of mines and caves where light sent every gem sparkling like its own fire. He had a deep heart to him and it had initially caught her eye.

 

Kneeling a bit so she could look him in the eye, she whispered “When I saw you, dying of that Morgul wound, I could only think that what a grievous loss it would be to see someone so full of fire slip away to shadow.” She paused, considered her words “I do care for you. Deeply. But not in the way that you seek.” It had taken her quite a few weeks of self-denial to come to that conclusion but facts were facts. She did care for him, as one might care for a deep friend, perhaps even a brother. She wanted him to do well, she wanted him to be happy, she wanted him to live a long life. Yet, there was not that desire to be one with him, to live out her life WITH him. She was meant to walk side by side with him, for a time, but their paths were not the same.

 

Kili felt like his world had dropped out from under his feet. “But...but Tauriel....the way we fought together. The way you looked at me. They said you wept when I fell and...” Had that meant nothing? Had their connection meant nothing? Had there been a connection at all? His entire world had become devoted to her. She haunted his every thought! His dreams were often clouded with her image and the image of a potential future (though he did not know how) and perhaps of children. Yes, he had dreamt of lovely children. He had dreamt of waking next to her and knowing the feeling of being wanted, accepted. He had thought she felt the same. The way she smiled, the way she had rushed to his side….had that been him seeing what he wanted to see?

 

It was breaking apart like shattered glass.

 

“I did.” She confirmed. “I wept at the unfairness of it. I wept at the possibility of so much passion being snuffed out. I wept for one I could call Elf-Friend. And I rejoiced to hear you survived.” Silence lingered. “But it was not as a lover weeps. I am not the Amrâlimê for you, Kili. That precious token should be saved for one who is.” She hoped deeply for him. He had a wonderful heart and it was a treasured thing to have been a potential recipient of it. When the time was right, she hoped that the world would give him one worthy of it. “You must save it for your true Amrâlimê.”

 

Willing his eyes to stay dry, for his throat to not construct, the dwarf prince locked eyes with her. She nearly wept herself at the pain in them. “Di...did I do something wrong?” His voice felt small and came out as a meek squeak. He looked like a kicked puppy. Her heart ached for him but Tauriel knew she could not give him what he desired.

 

“Kili, you did nothing to cause this. I must admit that after we first met, I pondered these feelings myself. As you are, I am young especially by elf standards. I was enticed by such a thought...by falling in love.” Standing back to her full height, she shook her head “Unfortunately, Kili, that’s what it was…I was in love with the idea of being in love. My feelings for you are strong…but they are not love, _Mellon_.” On that, she knew it. What Thranduil had said to her, about if her love for the dwarf was real, she had found that while yes, it was real, it was not the kind of love she thought it was. Much as she enjoyed his spirit, his spunk, she knew more about the allies they had made in Laketown than she knew about him. She knew she did not want him to die. She knew she wanted him to be able to achieve his dreams. She knew that she wanted him to be happy.

 

She did not feel an undying desire to be by his side to watch it happen. She did not feel that if he were to die, as all mortals would, that she would fade away. She would be saddened and would mourn but it would not kill her spirit. She did not feel that her own path was interlocked with his. “I want you to be happy, _Mellon_ ,” she said again, “But I fear the love you want is not going to be with me. Whomever you find it with is deeply blessed but…it cannot be me, Kili of Erebor.”

 

Head bowed, hair falling into his eyes, Kili managed a nod. “I understand, Tauriel. I...please don’t let this disrupt the alliance of our people.” It was hard, so hard. Each word was forced out, like choking on sand and fire. “I…still consider you dear to me and…our kingdoms…can learn much from one another. Do not let this…”

 

“Never, _Mellon_.” She bowed to him. “As I said, I do care for you and I do have the utmost respect for you. I wish I could give you the affection you seek.” She meant that. She had lain amid the trees, staring at the stars, seeing if her heart would change, if her thoughts would grow, if her desires would shift. She had pondered their conversations, wondered if they could grow into something more. She had felt grief when she thought he was gone and while it was deep and it hurt, it had not broken her. It had not made her ponder about the future with uncertainty. As it was, when the battle had been over, Kili had seemed sure that she would stay with him in Erebor but she had never had a desire. She had been grateful for peace, grateful for the safety of elves, men and dwarves alike but she had never felt more relieved than when Thranduil lifted her banishment. She had wanted to go home. With love, so she had heard, home became that person.

 

Kili had not become her home.

 

The young Prince of Erebor stared at the elven woman for a moment longer. Why, he didn’t know. She had made her point abundantly clear. Perhaps he was hoping for her to say it was elvish tradition, a test for endurance or purity or some other such nonsense. Yet, she just stood there, her face devoid of any emotion except sincerity. This was no deeper meaning, no trial. This was simply Tauriel giving him hard, cold facts. It hit like a hammer to the heart but what could he do? He could not change feelings, much as he would like to.

 

Nodding, as he did not trust himself to speak, Kili turned on his heels and headed back towards Erebor. Goldfire gave a low growl, baring his sharp teeth at the elf woman before trotting after his downtrodden master.

 

* * *

 

 

The forges were hot which meant it was not unusual for your eyes to water after a time. You would drip buckets of sweat “if you’re doing it right” as Uncle Thorin often said. There was a reason that most dwarves stripped down to their barest clothes when working the metals in the fire. There were a choice few who would only wear a simple apron to defend against sparks. Thorin had taught Kili and Fili to avoid layers of clothing and they both took care to follow that rule. The forge, while a place of wonderful magic could just as easily turn disastrous.

 

The slamming hammers made it hard to hear and if you focused on the noises enough, all else was blocked out. Kili remembered his uncle telling him often that if his heart were troubled, he would lose himself amid the noise. Mahal would guide your hand in a craft and if you let your mind and soul drift away from the monotony of the day so that you only knew the rhytmn of the hammers, then there was often a surprise that would emerge beneath your hard working fingers. Lose yourself in Mahal’s presence, Uncle would say.

 

Kili relished in it. 

 

He didn’t even know what he was making or even if he had an end product in mind. All he knew was that he needed to pound metal. When he’d made his way back into Erebor, he’d found his brother was having his first true meeting with the Dwarf Lords on his own, though he suspected his uncle was near to lend aid if need be. He wouldn’t interrupt that. He could not interrupt that. After all, it was not as if his brother could fix what was happening, fix the anger, sadness and pain that made every step feel like a hike through Middle Earth. Why ruin his brother’s moment for that?

 

The next best thing was the forge.

 

The huge fires and hammers of Erebor were luxurious over the small forges that he had grown up using. All the same though, fire and metal was fire and metal. Give a proper dwarf a hammer, fuel and metal and it was all he required. The scurrying of dwarves, here and there, breathed life into the place. It made you feel like you were one with the kingdom, with the spirit of the dwarfdom. The first time Kili had swung a hammer, with his brother, in making the knife for their uncle, he had grinned from ear to ear the entire time, even when his muscles began to ache so much, he swore they had caught aflame.

 

Now, all Kili could feel was the pain in his heart. He cursed in Khuzdul with each pounding of the hammer. He suspected if this had been the first rejection, he might have sobbed, vented and then moved on. After all, such was the way for love. In their race, with female dwarves being so rare, it was not uncommon for interest to not blossom as one might wish it would. There was concern, deep concern, that their women only bind themselves to those that made them feel whole. He could understand that and even appreciate it.

 

But it was not the first. Or the second or the third.

 

It was the sixth.

 

Each hammer pound triggered memories. One of his childhood friends, Sunna. She’d been one of the few friends he’d had, her and her brother. Usually, they were teased that she could pass as Fili’s younger sister, as she had the same golden shaded hair though she had the rare green eyes of her mother’s clan. They’d been good playmates and good listeners. While Kili could not say that they had never teased him for his unorthodox looks, he knew it was all in jest (or so he thought and hoped it was) until the time came when Kili began to seek out suitors.

 

He’d always had a love for a potential mate and children, not something all dwarves did. His uncle did not have it and neither did his brother. Their people called it ‘child-longing.’ When the time came to announce their chosen trade to the people, someone with child longing would always announce parenthood first and then their trade. Kili had yet to do his, as that ceremony was done on the old age of majority which had once been 80. Fili had announced his trade as metalsmith, same as his uncle. Fili, despite his looks, had never been interested in mates or children though he did love children, just never wanted ones of his own. Always teased that “if you make me an uncle, I’ll love it!” It was similar to the situation with Thorin, Frerin and Dis. Only Dis had expressed desire for children, her two brothers having been married to their duty, work and craft. It was easy enough to see the same thing in her eldest child. Dis had always teased that if the Durin Line was to continue, it would be through Kili.

 

Thorin and Fili had been supportive when Kili announced that the concept of parenthood was enticing. “Good, you can handle that part of the heir’s duties, little brother!” Fili had smiled. The years had only increased Kili’s realization that love, a relationship, marriage and eventually children would have to be in his future somewhere, somehow. He’d known it as a youngling and he only became more and more convicned over time. Each rejection and how much it had hurt, only told him that such a feeling was not going to go away.

 

Sunna was the first.

 

He’d been young, barely into the teen years by dwarf standards so Kili’d thought a close female friend might be a potential mate. He’d asked Sunna if she might consider it, if they might try to explore that angle. They’d both been young, barely understanding the emotions involved in a relationship at the time. All they had really known was from stories and songs but that didn’t mean they weren’t intrigued by such a concept. It would be a learning experience for them both, Kili had thought.

 

She’d blushed but politely refused him.

 

It was the first refusal of now six. 

 

There’d been Friya, who had frequented their uncle’s forge and actually not dismissed his archery as “elf-like.” Hair of coal black and eyes of sapphire blue that had clouded in pity when she’d informed him that she wasn’t looking for “someone like him.” She never expanded to what that meant and he had been too disappointed to inquire. He had attended their annual celebration of Durin’s Day alone that year, sticking by his family and watching longingly at the budding couples among his age group.

 

There’d been Asjur , a spunky girl with brown hair and grey eyes, who had made a face and asked if he was serious before inquiring if his brother was free instead. That had been the end of that.

 

There’d been Sifa, a girl with red hair in long flowing braid with a beard to match, whom upon him stammering out his request had laughed in his face and she’d not stopped laughing for a good five minutes. When he had still been standing there after her fit, she had nearly lost her composure again and wheezed out “Not before the remaking of the world, elf-boy!”

 

The last dwarrowdam he’d asked had been ten years ago. A soft spoken lass named Idua whom had mirrored his looks if only in coloring (she had a beard that rivaled some males twice her age) that had gone with him on a few outings and then confessed that she would not be able to stomach the marriage bed with him because of his “unslightly” looks. She had tried to be delicate with her words but there really was no ‘nice’ way to tell someone you found them so unattractive that the thought of producing children with them was sickening.

 

Now Tauriel.

 

Maybe he should have expected it. After all, if the women of his own race rejected him then why would an elf of Tauriel’s status be intrigued by him? While she apparently was a ‘low-born’ elf, she still had her pick of a great many elven men. Why would a dwarf archer catch her eye? The more he thought about it, the more it made no sense. Why? Why did he think there was anything there? Because she was kind to him? Because she fought on his side in a war that expanded way beyond the realm of Erebor?  


Because he wanted it to be more?

 

Kili’s eyesight was growing misty with unshed tears. The sight of the glowing hot metal blurred. 

 

Why? What was he doing so wrong to be continually rejected? He knew he could be a bit of a prankster but he took care to never do anything deeply damaging and he had never tried such things on anyone he did not know intimately. He tried to take his uncle’s lessons on decorum to heart and he routinely told himself that he would honor any potential mate on the same level, if not more so than, than the honor he bestowed on his mother. He would treat them like a princess, no, like a queen!

 

He had done that with each of his previous attempts. He had brought gifts of well-being, of good intent. He had offered his aid, a listening ear, anything he thought might ease their own workload. He had done everything he could think of to do in order to show his sincerity, his devotion.

 

So why? All he wanted was someone to love and who would love him back. All he wanted was a family of his own, children to call his own. He loved his brother, his uncle, his mother. He wanted to be able to shower little dwarves of his own with the same kind of affection he had grown up with. He wanted a lady by his side that would smile at him, that would look upon him and love him for what she saw. What was wrong with him? It was one thing to have one, perhaps two rejections before finding your one. But…six? Was he cursed...?

 

“My Prince!” 

 

The warning came a moment too late and the hammer, having narrowed the metal to hair thin, shattered the final fragment connecting it and metal splintered everywhere as the hammer connected full on with anvil, sending a vibrating pain up Kili’s arm that made his teeth chatter. The sharp pain from the metal cutting into his lower arm came a moment later. He dropped the tool and clutched his wrist, willing the sharp and intense pain to fade away. At least it blocked out those self-defeating thoughts for a moment…

 

“Your Highness!”

 

A cloth was wrapped hastily over the cut on his arm and Kili blinked, recognizing one of the dwarven smiths who had stayed when Dain Ironfoot went home, seeking a life in Erebor. Nice enough dwarf and devoted as one could be to the Royal family. He was older, had strips of silver starting in his dark black hair and his beard was more silver than black already. He was a warrior, well known for charging into the fray, a story that the scars over his face told well. Went by Audun if he remembered right.

 

“Prince Kili, are you alright?” The dwarf’s thick baritone cut through Kili’s daze. Looking down at his arm, which was only bleeding slightly, Kili nodded “I...I’m alright Audun. Just...distracted.” He gently moved his hammer from anvil back to the counter and went to scoop up the fractured pieces of shattered metal, blinking his tears away as best he could but Audun gently grabbed his shoulder. The older dwarf pushed his beard aside and stated gently, setting firm eyes on the younger one. 

 

“If I may, my Prince.” He offered. “I’ll clean this up. Please, go tend your arm. It may not be deep but metal is never good to let linger in a wound.”

 

Yes. Yes, of course. Amateur rule. He should know this...

 

Nodding mutely, Kili thanked him “Of course, thank you, Audun.” He slowly walked out of the forges, and was glad to be rid of the eyes on him. 

 

He likely should have stopped to see Oin but he had no desire. He’d clean it himself. It wasn’t the first cut he’d received from broken metal and it would hardly be the last. A forge-master that had no scars was no true master. If he had to patch himself up, the more he’d remember. Yes, yes, that would be his reasoning. The less people he had to interact with right now, the better. He even found he had no will to greet his pup when he bounded at him as he emerged from Erebor’s belly. He simply kept walking, eyes blank, until he got to the Royal Wing.

 

“Prince Kili?” One of his personal guard, Mahnar, addressed him gently. “Are you alright?”

 

For a moment, Kili considered telling him. Mahnar, while older than him, was no older than Ori. He’d actually wanted to come along on the journey to Erebor when Thorin had asked for aid but his family had been so against it and he did not wish to be disrespectful to their wishes. Such things could be tricky, especially among Dwarf families. You always wanted to be respectful to your elders and even if Mahnar wanted to lend his aid, he would not blatantly go against his family’s decision. Though, when they finally responded after Smaug’s death, Mahnar had been the first one out onto the rams. His ferocity on the battlefield had been rewarded and when Thorin had offered him a spot defending the royal family, he could not say yes quickly enough. It was a statement to his loyalty and skill to be trusted to defend Thorin’s heirs.

 

Kili had formed an understanding with Mahnar, a friendship of sorts though it could not be a true friendship. Hard to be close friends with someone when the very essence of their job included dying to ensure you lived.

 

Still, given their closeness in age, it was usually easy for Mahnar to sympathize with Kili. Talks between the two of them were not uncommon but today, not even Mahnar’s friendly and concerned face was a comfort. He ignored the inquiry and paused, briefly, hand on his door and then turned to look him in the face. Kili was the least formal of his family. It was something he could afford as he was neither the King nor the direct heir. He got the benefits without a lot of the responsibility.

 

In this case though, he meant to utilize some of the power he held but rarely used.

 

“I wish not to be disturbed.” Kili said simply, numbly, before walking into his personal chambers. “Not until I say otherwise. No one.”

 

“...understood.” Mahnar managed before the door shut entirely.

 

If Kili noticed his pup had not followed him in, he made no mention of it. He’d every intention of going to clean his arm. Instead, he made it as far as the bed, pulled the curtains tight around it and flopped down on the sheets. The youngest prince wept. 

* * *

 

“Lad’s doing well,” Dwalin noted though he didn’t move from his recline near the door. The meeting would be drawing to a close soon and while Fili had shown no issue thus far, they really didn’t want to leave without warning. Dwarves were volatile folk and it would be all too easy for a seemingly perfect meeting to suddenly erupt into chaos. Much as they thought Fili could handle it, no point in throwing the lad to the wolves so to speak. Thorin in particular remembered such a thing happening when he was a young Prince and while the chaos had taught him well how to handle a sudden eruption of temper, he had always wished his father had not just left him to figure it out. He did not want to do such a thing with his eldest sister-son.

 

It was beginning to look as if his caution was for naught though. If the action from within the meeting room was any indication, the eldest heir of Erebor certainly needed no aid. Thorin offered a smile through his beard and gave another puff of smoke as he addressed his oldest friend. “He learns well and quick. I know sometimes it’s hard to believe but they both do.”

 

Chuckling, Dwalin remarked “I think my brother may challenge you on that, Thorin.” Though he moved so he was leaning against the wall next to his king.

 

Throwing a playful glare his way, Thorin amended “They learn quick and well when they **wish** to.”

 

Dwalin’s response was cut off when Thorin suddenly jerked to the side. Had he been any less of a seasoned warrior, the swift shift of balance might have knocked him over but as it was, he managed to grab the wall and remain upright.

 

“Mahal’s...” Thorin’s curse was cut off by the sound of a deep throated growling, in the form of a little white furred pup who had sank his teeth into Thorin’s boot cuff. “Goldfire, no!” The Dwarf King gently pushed the pup off only for it to then latch onto Thorin’s sleeve and jerk its head back and forth, not once relenting on the growls.

 

“Where’s your master, Pup?” Dwalin inquired simply, looking around for the youngest prince. He was rarely without his pet. That thing followed him around like an extra shadow. Fili was just as bad with his. The weapons master was well aware that the elder heir had a black furred pup sitting under the council table at his feet this very moment.

 

Goldfire was not persuaded. If anything, he became more insistent, shaking his head so violently that it threatened to tear Thorin’s tunic. The Dwarf King shoved him off, a bit more roughly. “Goldfire, I said no!”

 

The pup yelped a little before turning in several tight circles, sitting on its haunches and howling. He ran out the door then back in, scratched at the doorframe before running right in front of the two dwarves and howled again.

 

Continuously.

 

“You’re the one that said they could keep ‘em.” Dwalin felt inclined to remind his king. 

 

Calling his friend a rude term under his breath, the Dwarf King was very close to considering making a hat out of the pup when Audun made his way up from the forges. Not too unusual and to be frank, Thorin was rather surprised that more dwarves were not pouring in, demanding that the annoying howling be dealt with. Audun was not one to be easily bothered though and when he saw the noisy pup, he seemed even more disturbed before setting his eyes on Thorin. Bowing low on one knee, as he was want to do whenever greeting the King, he spoke out, “Your Majesty, if I may inquire?”

 

“Stand, Audun, son of Audal.” Thorin said in response though he had to heighten his volume a bit to be heard over the wolf pup’s howling. Thorin was very tempted to have Dwalin toss the pup outside but Audun had the Dwarf King’s attention currently.

 

“Forgive me for interrupting, My King, but I wanted to inquire if Prince Kili was doing better.”

 

Blinking in surprise, Thorin asked, concern lacing his voice, “Doing better?”

 

“Aye,” the dwarf smith continued “Got a mild injury in the forge earlier and the lad seemed…distant. Distracted. Hard to tell sometimes with him but something was off. I assumed he came and found you or his brother…”

 

“Fili’s been stuck with the old dullards all afternoon,” Dwalin offered. “Lad probably decided to not bug us about it when he couldn’t talk to his brother.” Kili, and Fili too for that matter, could be quite infuriating at times. They usually were great supports to one another but while Thorin would easily stop a war to tend to his sister sons if need be, they were still hung up on ‘bothering’ him, especially now that the kingdom was getting back into its old glory again. Talked about not being a ‘burden’ to their uncle now that he was rightful king. Never mind that he never stopped being an uncle! Dwalin was half tempted to box their ears half the time for it. If they were up front about things, so much fuss could be avoided.

 

But then, that WAS the Durin Line stubbornness.

 

Thorin’s lips were pursed in a tight line “Any idea on what was on his mind?”

 

Audun shook his head “Couldn’t tell. Looked like he mighta been trying not to cry though.” He hated to add that, knowing all too well the pride of dwarves and especially of the Durin line but that was the very reason why he felt he needed to bring it up. Such a thing was surely a sign of horrific news!

 

Dwalin and Thorin exchanged a glance. While Kili was without a doubt the more sensitive of the two brothers, it was still rare for him to openly cry outside of the privacy of his own chambers. Even amongst family members, Kili usually reserved his tears for when he and his brother were alone unless it was something deeply troubling. In that latter case, he might allow Thorin to see him shed a few tears. It was rare though and the idea that he had been crying, or at least, trying not to cry, worried the both of them.

 

“I’ve not seen my youngest sister-son.” Thorin began and stumbled again when Goldfire once more began to tug on his boot before howling once more. “Is that why you are carrying on so?” he inquired of the creature who simply howled again in response. Glancing backward towards the council room, Thorin jumped a bit when Dwalin’s hand fell on his shoulder.

 

“Go find the youngest lad, Thorin. I’ll mind this one.” He jerked his head towards the council chamber. “Lad sounds like he’s wrapping up. I’ll usher ‘em down to the kitchens for some ale.”

 

Giving a nod, Thoirn stated “Tell him that I’ll be back to debrief him…and congratulate him as soon as I’m able.” Glancing down at the white wolf pup, Thorin declared “Alright, bothersome thing, please tell me that you can be of some use.”

 

With a half yelp, the creature took off for the hall and Thorin followed.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t sleep.

 

How could he? It would be nice perhaps but closing his eyes would do nothing but force that scene to repeat. Granted, lying here was not doing much either but the tears had felt a little relieving. Embarrassing but relieving. It still hurt. It still burned. Staring at the closed blue curtains around the bed taunted him but he really didn’t know what else he could do. He was obviously too distracted for the forge. If he could not handle metal and fire then going to the range and picking up a bow would be disastrous. Last thing he needed was having to stumble through an apology of putting an arrow in someone.

 

When would Fili be done? He really needed to talk to someone.

 

            “Kili.”

 

            The voice startled him more than it should have when the dark curtains were pulled aside slightly and Thorin came into view. Jolting up, Kili instantly ran his wrist across his eyes, only to discover with dismay that the dust from the forge and the blood from his sliced arm were still all too present. They left a lovely stain across his eyes, judging by the look that came over his uncle’s face. Normally, Kili would have laughed at himself, he would have made some quip about being ‘made of stone, aren’t we?’ but now, he had no energy for it. He was spent, emotionally and physically.

 

            He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. Goldfire bounded up on the bed, pawing at his arms, pleading for attention. He heard his uncle’s steps pause and then slowly withdraw. He should have known that Mahnar would have to let his uncle in. King’s order overruled a Prince’s. Who had sent Thorin after him though? Wasn’t he busy? He wouldn’t understand…how could he tell his uncle? Sure, Fili might not have liked elves but Uncle Thorin despised them. He could hear the ‘I told you so’ now. Besides, what kind of heir to Erebor wept over a love that it turned out was never a love to begin with?

 

            His heart and throat choked up again.

 

            What a sight he must have been…still covered in dust, bleeding from his arm, tear stains on his face and his shaggy hair sticking to the trails the tears had left in their wake. He looked far less Prince and more pauper. Pathetic, really….

 

            “Kili, look at me.”

 

            Glancing up at that stern voice, his uncle greeted him by taking his chin gently and with a warm cloth to the face, scrubbed at the bloody marks and coal stains. “It’s not as unsightly as you might think but I don’t need it irritating your eyes. I’ve rubbed coal into my eyes on several occasions and I do not recommend it, lad.” He gave his nephew a gentle smile, one that he reserved only for his sister-sons. “It’s not like you to ignore cleansing the dust off you from the fires or to ignore an injury like this.” He gestured to the slice on the boy’s arm.

 

            Kili said nothing.

 

            Thorin pursed his lips. “Kili.” He deepened his tone, deliberately. “What happened?”

 

            “What’s the point?” Kili responded sharply. “I already know what you’ll say.”

 

            A bit miffed, the Dwarf King challenged, “Do you? Then we shall not waste time on pleasantries, shall we?” He admitted that his tone was perhaps a bit harsh but he did not like the haunted look he saw in his sister-son’s eyes. The evidence of crying, of deep-seated crying, was settled all over the boy’s face and his whole form reeked of emotional exhaustion. Anger was Thorin’s defense but in actuality, he was concerned, deeply concerned. He also felt the heat of protectiveness rise in his heart. He wanted to know what had caused this pain and potentially whom. His youngest sister-son had always been the most sensitive but he had learned to put up necessary walls over the years. Thorin and Dwalin had taught him well about being strong when it was needed, about gauging the vulnerabilities of the environment. Balin had taught him the necessities of appearances. Kili had grown firm in keeping his pains inside until he was able to cope with them safely, when circumstances would allow him to process them without danger.

 

            Something or some _one_ had hit his nephew so deep and so hard that those walls had crumbled.

 

            Thorin Oakenshield wanted to know whom he needed to go kill.

 

            “Kili, are you not my sister’s son? Are you not my second heir? Have I not always been there for you before?” Thorin asked when his sharpness had not generated an answer.

 

            The dark haired dwarf prince let out a sigh “No, you always have, Uncle. In your own way.” Thorin was not known for being the most emotionally intelligent individual but when it came to him or to Fili, he was far more knowledgable than most knew. Only their mother knew that Thorin would let down any walls with them. That had never been in doubt but for the youngest Prince, there was always a fear of disappointment, of failure. He wanted to always be someone that his uncle could be proud of and now, sitting here with the remains of tears on his face but feeling so raw that he clutched Goldfire tight into his chest, he didn’t feel strong or prideful at all. “I…it hurts.”

 

            “Aye, something must for your face to reveal so much among the forge.” Thorin said simply. He shifted, sitting next to Kili on the bed and gently turned his head, “If I have made you afraid to speak candidly to me then I have failed tremendously somewhere. I ask you now, sister-son, please, talk to me.” He gently moved a stray hair out of Kili’s eyes.

 

            Lowering his eyes, Kili busied his hands with stroking Goldfire’s fur back. “I…Tauriel asked to talk to me today. She sent a raven a week or so ago, said it was important.” When his uncle said nothing, Kili took that as a sign to continue. “So, when I got done with Nori and Dori today, I met her around where Laketown used to be.”

 

            “I see.” Thorin kept his tone level. It was no secret he loathed any elves, though he was tolerant of Tauriel, if only for his sister-son’s sake and for the aid she had given them in battle. Kili, for some odd reason, was quite taken with her and despite his insistence that such a relationship would never endure, would never survive, the boy stubbornly insisted he was in love. Not about to cause him undue distress, Thorin left it at that. She was always polite when they interacted, always respectful and he could find no further fault. However, facts were facts---he tolerated her, but he did not like her.

 

            And he had a sinking feeling that his tolerance was about to expire.

 

            “She…returned my token.” Kili whispered softly, turning the stone about in his hand. “She said that…she never should have accepted it. Because…what she felt for me wasn’t love.” There. He’d said it. Let Uncle Thorin get in his ‘did I not warn you’s and his ‘did I not say such a relationship was doomed, you stubborn boy’s. Let that be done. He rested his face in Goldfire’s fur and awaited the lecture.

 

            It did not come.

 

           

            Thorin’s initial response was a desire to remind the boy about why he had protested such a relationship. He longed to drive home that this was what he had been trying to avoid. Yet, he could not. He would not. The broken look to his sister-son, the way he sat so downtrodden. He would not worsen a gaping wound. Instead, he felt a strong urge to go hunt down the red haired elven maiden and make her regret having ever looked at his nephew. He wanted to make her suffer. He wanted her to pay for the fact that his youngest was in this current state!

 

            Since none of those options were reasonable, Thorin did the only other thing he could do.

 

            He pulled his youngest into a tight embrace.

 

            Kili stiffened, at first, but then let himself go limp against that strong chest. When Thorin laid a hand into his hair, the boy wept. Kili released his grip on his pet wolf, threw his arms tight around his uncle and he sobbed. He wailed, letting out all those tears that had begun to seep out in forge. This was Uncle, this was family and this was SAFE.

 

All that hurt and pain and unfairness that had been building like a storm in his chest. Digging his fingers tight into the back of his uncle’s robes, he cried. It had been quite some time since he had done so, at least this passionately.

 

            Thorin let him.

 

            He did not speak, he did not respond aside from tightening his grip on the younger dwarf and letting him release all that emotion. Hearing either of his sister-sons crying always made his heart ache but this kind of crying in particular was painful to listen to. However, listen he would until the pain had lessened. By now, Kili had all but fallen over, rolled onto his belly and amid his fit of tears, nearly buried his face into Thorin’s chest. Goldfire had jumped to the side and sat, patiently, waiting. Blasted thing seemed to give him a cynical look as if to say that this was the reasoning for all its accursed howling.

 

            “What did I do wrong, Uncle?”

 

            Kili’s cries pierced his consciousness and he looked down at the crumpled boy. “Uncle, tell me what I’m doing wrong!”

 

            “Kili, my lad, you are doing nothing wrong—“

 

            “I must be!” The boy interrupted. “There must be something horribly wrong with me! Six times, Uncle. Six rejections. All different, save for one factor. Me. What is it about me that makes me so undesirable?”

 

            Under most circumstances, Thorin would have desired for his sister’s presence for such things but hearing the utter disregard Kili was spouting against himself, Thorin felt there was no possible response than the truth. “There is nothing undesirable about you, Kili.” He lifted the boy’s chin, locked eyes with him. “You are a Prince of Erebor and my sister-son besides. There is nothing about you that any half-decent woman would not want in her life. The fact that you have not found one yet merely means that none of these past relationships you’ve had were decent.”

 

            Kili shook his head “Know how many of them scoffed at me, Uncle? Laughed at me?” He choked a little. “Know what it’s like to be told you’re too ugly to get a dwarrowdam excited?”

 

            Much as he had no desire to think of either of his nephews’ eventual sex lives, the prospect of being told such a thing was infuriating. Thorin made a mental note to learn who the individual in that relationship had been so he could deliver swift justice. Kili was his bundle of light. He was meant to be smiling, laughing and bringing joy and pleasure to others. He should not have been crumbled in his elder’s lap, sobbing and demanding to know what was wrong with him. Red hot rage over the unfairness of it all burned in Thorin’s belly.

 

            “Mahal should have given the child longing to Fili.” The boy continued. “He wouldn’t be having this trouble.”

 

            Shaking his head, Thorin corrected. “Mahal gives the child-longing to those whom need to have it. Since you have it and Fili does not, there is a reason.”

 

            “Except you need a dwarrowdam to use it.” Kili murmured. “I’m apparently not meant for that.”

 

            “None of that.” Thorin stated simply. “You are young, yet, Kili though you often seem to forget that. You have time.”

 

            Head bowed, the boy challenged “But will time fix what seems to drive everyone away, Uncle? Why doesn’t anyone want me?” He laid against his elder’s chest and relished the strong arms around him. “Why…?”

 

            Thorin was quiet for a long moment. He considered his answer, continuing to stroke the boy’s hair back. “Kili, do you know your history?”

 

            Blinking in surprise, the boy looked up, “Huh?”

 

            “Your history. Do you know it?” Thorin repeated though he did not look at him.

 

            Startled by the seemingly unrelated question, the younger Prince of Erebor replied “Mostly. What history are you talking about?” He felt inclined to add “We have a lot of history, Uncle.”

 

            “The rise of Khazad-dûm, my dear boy.” Thorin clarified as he turned to look at his nephew. Reaching out, he gently brushed a tear away from the boy’s cheek. “Do you know that history?”

 

            Swallowing, Kili responded, “Mostly.” He added “Though, you always told it better than Balin.”

 

            Leaning back, allowing a low chuckle, Thorin intoned. “When Durin awoke, after he named the lake of Mirrormere, the Valley of [Azanulbizar](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Azanulbizar), he led his people into the caves that lay above it, settled in the roots of the mountains. It was from there that the Dwarves of Old carved out the glory of Dwarrowdelf. They formed the Second Hall, Durin’s Bridge and the wonder of the Endless Stair.” He paused and eyed his young heir. “And do you know what sustained the dwarves within Khazad-dûm?”

 

            “The riches they mined inside the mountains,” Kili answered immediately. “Gems, gold, silver—“

 

            “Aye, all of that is true but what was the wealth of Durin’s People? _Our_ People?” Thorin inquired with a raise of one brow.

 

            “Mithril,” Kili said with a nod and fingered the beads in his uncle’s hair that were made of the rare substance. “It was worth ten times that of gold and now it’s priceless.”

 

            “Smart lad.” Thorin offered his praise with a smile. “But it was not always so. Has Balin ever told you the story of the discovery of Mithril?”

 

            Staring in surprise, Kili shook his head, “Uh uh. He just said that the only other place where you could find it was Númenor. After it fell, only Durin’s People had a vein of mithril.”

 

            “I’m not surprised he did not tell you the story. It is not a well-known one. Not written in our records in any event.” Thorin smiled. “My father and his father before him, passed the tale down, by word of mouth from the very first Longbeard, Durin the Deathless.” He paused, gave his nephew time to process it. “As they built up the kingdom of Khazad-dûm, Durin the Deathless had a son of his own, young and full of spirit, much like another dwarf I know. He was anxious to prove himself and thus, one day, as he dug amid the lower caverns, he came across an odd sight. Silver that was not silver. It did not tarnish and seemed to have its own glow, or so it seemed to his eyes. Oh, so full of joy he was as he rushed back to his father, proclaiming to have found such a wondrous thing! Durin followed his son back and was just as astounded by the new mineral. However, when they called the other Fathers of the Dwarves, do you know what they said unto them?”

 

            Entranced, as he always was whenever his uncle told stories, Kili shook his head.

 

            “It’s just silver,’ they told him.” Thorin said with an exaggerated scoff. “Nothing but a bright vein of silver, hardly worth getting excited over!.’ Oh, if Durin’s son was not disappointed but his father insisted that he need not heed their words for it was indeed something special. They mined it and from it, Durin forged the first armor for his son. The other families still scoffed, still doubted, proclaiming that he ought to clothe his child in steel or bronze.” Thorin shook his head and stroked Kili’s hair. “But Father Durin was wiser. When the first attack by Melkor’s forces came, the son of Durin was first on the field, right next to his father. Oh, such a shock it was when not even the spears forged in Mordor could pierce the Prince’s armor! Did not even tarnish it!”

 

            Kili smiled brightly at the images his uncle painted with his words, having slipped to resting his head in the dwarf’s lap.

 

            “When they drove the orcs back to their dark master, oh, the way the other Dwarf clans came to Durin and dropped their heads in shame. They proclaimed that such a metal was indeed worth the praise Durin had showered upon it. However, Durin would not relent or trade with them for a long time. He refused, stating why should he share such a priceless treasure with folk who were not blind and yet refused to see something that was staring them right in the face? They had to earn back Durin’s favor and it was not easily won.”

 

            Blinking up at his uncle, fascinated, Kili was startled when Thorin gently lifted him to a sitting position and laid his hand on the back of the boy’s head. “If these females…be they dwarf, elf, man or otherwise, can only see silver when they have stumbled upon mithril, they are unworthy of you.” He rested his forehead gently on Kili’s and smiled warmly. “The time will come when one will see the rarity before them and treasure it as it should be treasured.”

 

            A lazy smile passed over Kili’s lips. He welcomed the soft caress of his uncle’s fingers in his hair and nodded, slowly “Thank you, Uncle.” His heart still ached but the pain was dulled. The words of his uncle vibrated in his chest and it soothed the pain as salve eased a burn. “Thank you.”

 

            Pressing a soft kiss to the boy’s forehead, Thorin advised “Never forget, my dear Kili, that mithril was the lifeblood of Durin’s People.” Resting his forehead on his nephew’s again, he offered, “And so it remains.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually really like Tauriel as a character...just not as a romantic interest. I love the original idea they had--make the Captain of the Mirkwood Guard female, have her be interested in getting involved in wars outside the forest. I don't _hate_ the Kili/Tauriel pairing but it's just not my thing. I much prefer them as allies, friends perhaps but nothing more. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Mellon--Sindarin Elvish for 'friend.'  
> Amrâlimê--Khuzdul for 'my love.'


End file.
